


Intro to the World

by Tavix202



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29579517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavix202/pseuds/Tavix202
Summary: An Intro to the world of the stories I post. Start here! Might be updated with time.





	Intro to the World

A Map: https://i.imgur.com/DmbHeUw.jpg 

The Empire is falling. Upper classes in the cities hide behind crumbling walls, slowly starving. Farmers eat well, but are under constant threat of bandits, barbarian tribes, and monstrous beasts. Cities still produce goods, but rely on lower classes for materials. Proletariat produce raw materials, but depend on cities for refined goods and tools. Social mobility is negligible, and even unwanted as life in the cities means a life of hunger. Coin is hard to find, and loses value every year as food grows more scarce. Gold feeds no bellies, after all.

Unrest abides everywhere. The Peons are free to move, not bound to land or lord, so long as they produce, but the untamed wilderness is daunting. Peons resent local leaders for failing to protect them, city dwellers resent those beyond the walls for not producing enough food. Both fear the might of the Imperial Legions, and their nearly unlimited authority beyond the walls. But the military’s forces are stretched thin, and cannot be everywhere at once. The Legion have come to resent their High Command and the Lords they serve, feeling that incompetent and corrupt leadership has lead to bungled military campaigns. The ensuing casualties have compounded the loss of morale.

At the center of it all sits the Emperor, His Majesty the Grand Thaumaturge of Alera. Holding his empire together with two grasping hands, He watches in futile desperation as it trickles between his fingers. All the while his own High Lords mutter whispers of discontent, even of open rebellion in the North. The tighter His Majesty grips his birthright, the more it slips away. Every year come reports of more villages found destroyed or abandoned. Savage Tribes from the South grow bolder and bolder with their raids. His own lands run wild with strange and terrible beasts. His Champions and Legions are not enough to stem the tide.

Mercenaries are in more demand than ever. Freelance dealers of defense and violence are able to operate without the bureaucratic or logistical constraints that burden the Legion. Good coins can be made from Imperial coffers, and grateful Peasants are happy to offer fresh food and a night’s lodging. Tales of hidden treasures and lost vaults of magical Artifacts tempt many to the rewarding, yet often short life.

But running beneath all lay fears that none dare mention, or even consciously consider too often. Magic itself seems to be dying out. Though its practitioners have lost none of their potency, fewer and fewer of those are born capable of wielding the arcane energies. The once great Imperial Magocracy now falters, unable to replenish it’s ranks. Some whisper that It began centuries ago, after the Great Exodus. Perhaps something was taken with those ships that sailed to the west, never to be heard from again. Others say that the Southern Tribes steal the young with the Gift, taken on raids for dark and unnatural rituals. Some fear they have transgressed against the very Gods, and must atone before the world can be made bright once more. Whatever the cause, if only a solution could be found, surely the greatness of old could return, and banish the darkness now plaguing the land.

Our story Concerns those north of the mountains, where the cold's grip on the countryside is far stronger than the Empires. The country folk huddle around their fires, and whisper of rebellion, while the fires within the cities are those that burn within the Lord's chest’s, fueled by hatred of the empire and, for a select few, a love for the people left to die by the empire's neglect. Unrest Blows in with the snow, and settles with it. Dark creatures haunt the nights, and the people wonder whose side they are on.

The Lords of Darkspire openly defy the Empire, while their northern neighbors in Whiteharrow scheme against them both. The Lords of the Pass beg the Empire for help, and keep the creatures that wander the frozen plains from spreading south. Legions march south, taking precious supplies with them, while other armies move unnoticed in their absence.

The dark hides many things...


End file.
